to where my mother was sitting and draped a lanky arm around her shoul- der, forcing her, for a brief moment, to stand up. "This woman," he declared, pulling her close to his side, "this woman hosted my first real Thanksgiving in America. It might have been an after- noon in May, but that first meal at Boudi's table was Thanksgiving to me. If it weren't for that meal, I would have gone back to Calcutta." My mother looked away, embarrassed. She was thirty-eight, already going gray, and she looked closer to my father's age than to Pranab Kaku's; regardless of his waist- line, he retained his handsome, carefree looks. Pranab Kaku went back to his place at the head of the table, next to Deborah, and concluded, ' d if that had been the case I'd have never met you, my darling," and he kissed her on the mouth in front of everyone, to much applause, as if it were their wedding day all over again. Mter the turkey, smaller forks were distributed and orders were taken for three different kinds of pie, written on small pads by Deborah's sisters, as if they were waitresses. Mter dessert, the dogs needed to go out, and Pranab Kaku volunteered to take them. "How about a walk on the beach?" he sug- -. - - " . /g ,:. [9J ' "<i,d-i}i [gJ " _ . '" . ;\'L"""(':"\:''''x,\,:"-.,,, --- 0-.-.- . -.- _ .. D - - - :- ,. . : ". :"..-.. ".. .... . -- . .. ". ' - - . - ... ........: /C?t - Aír ' . ( O Df{ o O t H ' gested, and Deborah's side of the fam- ily agreed that that was an excellent idea. None of the Bengalis wanted to go, preferring to sit with their tea and cluster together, at last, at one end of the room, speaking freely after the forced chitchat with the Americans during the meal. Matty came over and sat in the chair beside me that was now empty; encouraging me to join the walk. When I hesitated, pointing to my inappro- priate clothes and shoes but also aware of my mother's silent fury at the sight of us together, he said, "I'm sure Deb can lend you something." So I went up- stairs, where Deborah gave me a pair of her jeans and a thick sweater and some sneakers, so that I looked like her and her sisters. She sat on the edge of her bed, watching me change, as if we were girl- friends, and she asked if I had a boy- friend. When I told her no, she said, " M hinks ' " attyt youre cute. "He told you?" "No, but I can tell." As I walked back downstairs, em- boldened by this information, in the jeans I'd had to roll up and in which I felt finally like myself, I noticed my mother lift her eyes from her teacup and stare at me, but she said nothing, and off 1 1 - . 1 _ : . ! =- <' --:.. - r ? "\ .;' . , ': } " - (.", ,Î "Do you think terrorists could ever poison the vodka supply?" ] went, with Pranab Kaku and his dogs and his in-laws, along a road and then down some steep wooden steps to the water. Deborah and one of her sisters stayed behind, to begin the cleanup and see to the needs of those who remained. Initially, we all walked together, in a single row across the sand, but then I noticed Matty hanging back, and so the two of us trailed behind, the dis- tance between us and the others in- creasing. We began flirting, talking of things I no longer remember, and even- tually we wandered into a rocky inlet and Matty fished a joint out of his pocket. We turned our backs to the wind and smoked it, our cold fingers touching in the process, our lips pressed to the same damp section of the rolling paper. At first I didn't feel any effect, but then, listening to him talk about the band he was in, I was aware that his voice sounded miles away, and that I had the urge to laugh, even though what he was saying was not terribly funn It felt as if we were apart from the group for hours, but when we wandered back to the sand we could still see them, walking out onto a rocky promontory to watch the sun set. It was dark by the time we all headed back to the house, and I dreaded seeing my parents while] was still high. But when we got there Deb- orah told me that my parents, feeling tired, had left, agreeing to let someone drive me home later. A fire had been lit and I was told to relax and have more pie as the leftovers were put away and the living room slowly put back in order. Of course, it was Matty who drove me home, and sitting in my parents' drIve- way I kissed him, at once thrilled and terrified that my mother might walk onto the lawn in her nightgown and dis- cover us. I gave Matty my phone num- ber, and for a few weeks I thought of him constantly; and hoped foolisWy that he would call. I n the end, my mother was right, and fourteen years after that Thanksgiv- ing, after twenty-three years of mar- riage, Pranab Kaku and Deborah got divorced. It was he who had strayed, falling in love with a married Bengali woman, destroying two families in the process. The other woman was some- one my parents knew, though not very well. Deborah was in her forties by then,